


berserk and perverse

by Piglet (Rethira)



Category: AI: The Somnium Files (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Piglet
Summary: saito just cannot wait to try out his old body again
Relationships: Aiba & Date Kaname, Date Kaname/Sejima Saito
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	berserk and perverse

**Author's Note:**

> finished ai the somnium files earlier today and basically wrote this in 2-3 hours haha... ha
> 
> title from the jekyll and hyde musical's "alive" which seemed appropriate

saito says it’s to get his edge back. to get _used_ to it, being back in his body. _just a taste_ , he promises date, before the main meal. dinner _and_ a show he says, with a lascivious kind of leer that looks all wrong on date’s face. no. the face that date only _thought_ was his

it doesn’t look like his face any more. saito wears his skin differently. wore date’s skin differently- ugh what does it matter, he looks _different_ to date’s eyes. eye. he ate the other one. date’s only glad saito didn’t make date eat it, he’s feeling sick enough as it is

here’s what saito had done: before iris and before hitomi, he walked the mostly abandoned streets nearby, and kidnapped a few of the locals. people living off the grid, unlikely to be missed, although frankly date doesn’t think saito gives a rat’s ass about that. he’d knocked them out with brute force and kept them sedated and now he’s dragged them out, three of them

“i’m going to kill them,” saito purrs, with date’s voice. the voice date thought was his. “like a show for you.” he pats date’s head, and gestures to the first of the three, a young woman. “she’ll do for manaka,” he says, and date instantly knows that the other woman will stand in for shoko and the man for renju. saito only confirms it for him, before repeating, “although renju _did_ die from natural causes,” like- like it’s a point of weird pride for him that he _didn’t_ kill renju? or maybe a source of annoyance, that something like internal bleeding could take a kill from him….

“i _would_ have killed him with iris, you know,” saito says, “although really i would’ve been killing iris with iris.” he laughs, the noise both familiar and unfamiliar. date’s laugh but wrong. “well, date? are you ready for the show?” he knows full well date can’t reply, the sedative still making his lips and tongue sluggish, still holding date’s voice captive

with a final caress to date’s cheek, date’s new old cheek, saito crosses over to his ‘manaka.’ he turns her onto her front, kneels over her and date strains at the straps holding him, struggles to speak and _stop him_ -

the knife drives in with a wet and final thud

again and again and again

the blood splatters across date’s- _saito’s_ face

and date can see the moment saito expects to feel satisfaction, the moment he expects to feel _happiness_

and date can see the moment saito realises, the very _instant_ saito realises that his satisfaction isn’t coming

his face twists from gleeful expectation to- to some sort of rage. “no,” saito says, barely a breath, “no no no no _nononononon NO_!” he stabs again and again and again, far more than he did even for manaka, until finally he throws the knife across the floor and turns back to date with an expression of pure _fury_

“what did you _do_?”

date coughs, wetly. licks his lips. “it... won’t... work,” he croaks, in a voice that is and isn’t his

saito storms over and wrenches date’s head up. “ _what_ did you _do_?” he demands

“there’s an… imp... implant,” date tells him, haltingly. “it releases oxy… tocin for me-”

“ _you._ ” it’s the most contempt date’s ever heard in one word before. “how _dare you_?” saito shakes date’s head – the old one naturally, the new one through the nearly crushing grip he has in date’s hair

“you gave me that body,” date replies, and saito must fucking hate that truth, because he belts date across the face

the left side, obviously, and then the bastard follows it up by yanking date’s face up by the socket. white hot pain burns through date’s head, deafening him to most of what saito says next. “-et it _out_?” he’s asking, and date’s no idiot

“can’t,” he spits out, but knows that won’t be enough for saito, “even if you did, you wouldn’t go back”

“ _what_ ,” saito says. no inflection. just one furious eye glaring into date’s

“implant replaced what was there before,” date explains. “you understand me, saito? even if you ripped it out, you wouldn’t get that feeling back. it’s gone,” and the final nail in the coffin, “i killed it”

the noise that leaves saito’s mouth is utterly inhuman

his hands merely feel that way, like claws around date’s throat. crushing his larynx. date’d never realised how big his hands were before. large enough to go around a man’s throat and… crush it….

“die,” saito’s saying, “die die die die die _die die die_ ,” a chant that seems to get lost under date’s own heartbeat

but-

abruptly saito howls with fury again and leaps away from date. he claws at his own hair, his own head – _aiba_ – and he’s saying something but date can’t make it out over the ringing in his ears, the fogginess in his own empty silent aiba-less head

clarity returns with pain. pain returns with saito cutting date free from his restraints, the knife scoring marks across date’s skin. pain returns with saito hauling date out of the chair and throwing him to the floor. pain returns with saito pinning date down, gazing down at him with a wild leering eye

and aiba

“give it back,” saito says, “give it _back_ ”

date wheezes. saito barely seems to pay it any notice. he claws at date’s face, throat, chest. rips the gaudy shirt apart with one hand and his knife, and date thinks, muddle headed, that it’s more luck than intent that saito doesn’t stab him

“i _need_ it,” saito says, and his knife scores a stinging trail down date’s chest, just nicking a nipple

date winces

it’s like the noise recaptures saito’s attention. his eye suddenly focuses sharply on date’s face, his empty socket. a smile stretches across saito’s face, and date’s seen his own smile before but- _this_ isn’t _that_

“hurt did it, date? well that’s only fair, given how you’ve hurt _me._ ” he presses the flat of the blade to date’s bleeding nipple, hard enough that date winces again. a bead of date’s blood trickles down it and of course saito lifts the knife to his mouth to lick it clean, of _course_ he does

it’s hard to focus. date’s eye keeps closing, his mind wandering. saito seems to go from one extreme to the other in seconds – maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. does it matter?

to date, one moment saito’s licking date’s blood off his knife, and the next he’s howling, “not enough not _enough_ ,” and the knife is sinking into the meat of date’s shoulder, or scraping against his hip bone hard enough he can _feel_ it, and the pain takes date out of the moment for long enough that when he next cracks his eye open it takes date a moment to figure out what he’s seeing

it’s this: his bare leg hiked up on saito’s shoulder. his thigh, pale and bruised, and now sporting a series of bleeding cuts. like- like on a tree, when a woodpecker opens it up to get at the sap

except it’s his leg, and his blood. his leg that saito’s opening up, and carving chunks out of. his blood that saito is sucking out of the wound

his face that- no, it’s not his face. it’s saito’s face

it’s saito that’s saying, “nearly nearly, come on date, give it to me, give it _back_ ,” practically whining as he presses his mouth that was so recently date’s down over the latest oozing wound and then _biting_

date kicks instinctively. his free leg hits saito square in the chest, sending saito rocking back on his heels and-

date yells out as saito rips out a piece of his flesh with his teeth. and swallows it. and licks his lips after. licks date’s blood off his lips with every sign of relish

“that was stupid, date,” saito says, and as he straddles date’s untouched leg, date has the horrifying realisation that saito is _hard_

his dick’s clearly tenting his pants, but as if that wasn’t enough proof, as saito leans down he presses the hot hard line of it against date’s bare skin. he digs his fingers into the bleeding mess of date’s thigh, holding date in place as he slowly, _sensuously_ grinds himself against date

bile rises in date’s ruined throat. he forces it back down, gulping in urgent acidic breaths, as saito rubs more firmly, pushes his thumb into the gaping wound on date’s thigh. everything stinks of blood and death, all iron and sickly sweet, and saito’s face is going slack as he paws at his bite on date’s thigh, his other bloodied hand disappearing under his - date's - clothes and-

date’s throat burns as he croaks out, “four,” as saito moans, “one,” as saito brings his hand to his mouth, “two,” as saito licks his fingers,” zero,” as date meets aiba’s eye in saito’s head, “five,” and as saito leans over date, eye blazing with an emotion oh so _familiar_ , “okay, saito, i’ll give it back”

“yes,” saito croons, leaning down, close enough to hear

to hear as date croaks, “i love you”

(I understand, Date.)

saito has a moment. his pleasure crests, and his brows furrow, and then his head explodes

date licks his lips. “i love you,” he says again, into the ringing silence, “aiba”

**Author's Note:**

> rip


End file.
